Human Error
by steepedinshadows419
Summary: Final year at Oxford...Lauren's threat to call him out was enough to keep him quiet, but when they're forced to work together in a class neither of them can get out of in their final semester, will even that interaction push her over the edge or will she give him another chance? Miles/Lauren. Multi-Chap.
1. Prologue - Part 1

***** beta'd by **sendtherain** and re-posted (on 6/15/18)

* * *

 **Prologue – Part 1**

There was a light dusting of snow on the ground when the car finally rolled to a stop at the end of a seemingly endless drive leading to their country home.

"We're here!" Ollie announced, unbuckling his seat belt so fast it was a wonder it didn't slap him in the face when he thrust open the door and dashed into the yard.

Miles, who had been trying to achieve a sort of lapse of consciousness against the cold glass window, tried to ignore the enthusiasm bursting from his brother, but the slam of the door and the gentle nudging from his mother ended the 3-hour struggle.

"Sweetheart," she cooed softly. He opened his eyes reluctantly. "We're here." She smiled and turned back around to let herself out of the vehicle. No doubt to keep his younger brother from mischief, Miles mused.

His father caught his gaze and he grinned.

"Snow's come early this year." He beamed. "We'll have a roaring for the holiday party next week."

Miles could only blink. He didn't even want to try to register the impact his father's words made. _Had he forgotten so quickly the serious trouble his son had gotten into? Was he just going to forget it even happened just because he hadn't been expelled?_

As if he'd sensed his thoughts, his father's gaze suddenly sobered and he turned around in his seat to face his son. His tone was as deadly serious as ever.

"About Oxford," he began, "don't tell anyone what happened."

Miles brows furrowed in a mix of frustration, outrage and confusion, but his father raised his hand to silence any words that would have spilled out of his mouth.

"Everyone makes mistakes, Miles," he said. "No one is perfect. We are all human." He paused to take in his son's conflicted expression. "Whatever it was exactly that you did, you need to put it behind you. Learn from this experience and look to the future. If you don't, history will only repeat itself and the next time it might not be quite so easy to get out of."

Miles tried to let the words sink in, to put stock in them, but it was proving difficult to figure out if they were words of wisdom or words from a rich man not wanting to lose his position in the world and afraid he might if word got out that the Richards wasn't the perfect family in every way.

Before Miles could settle on which option was most likely, his father's face had morphed back into a silly grin and he was joining the rest of his family where they stood on the front porch locked outside of their holiday home. Freda, their house maid, wouldn't be arriving until tomorrow, it seemed, and only his father now held the keys.

…

As advised, Miles did his best to not think about his first semester at Oxford. He tried to focus on life before Oxford and life after Oxford, on academics and family, not false friends and a lost love. For a while, he succeeded.

On Monday he went Christmas shopping with his mother. On Tuesday, he took his brother ice skating, telling him it wasn't as easy as it looked, and quickly delivering hot chocolate when the sheer number of falls became too much for the younger boy's pride. On Wednesday, the whole family went together to chop down their own Christmas tree in the heart of the back woods on their property. The rest of the week went on in this fashion, providing either purely fun activities or planning ones that became fun either thanks to his mother's perfectly tuned singing voice or his father's expertise on the violin. By Saturday afternoon, a mere hour before the party would begin, everything was as blissful as if this was a regular Richards holiday on any year but this one.

"I ran into Bridget this morning when I was in town, Miles," his mother mentioned as she came through the door with flowers to display throughout the room.

"Hmm?" he asked, not looking away from where he stood watching the snow fall at the front window.

"Bridget," he repeated, making her way to him. "Stephanie's mother."

Miles tensed slightly, hoping his mother wouldn't notice. Stephanie had been the belle of the ball to both his parents, and anyone else they were friends with if he was being honest. She was beautiful, smart, well-educated and she came from excellent family background. If you were anyone in the upper class of England, you wanted your son involved with Stephanie Bellington.

To his misfortune, Miles had briefly allowed himself to be swept up in her charm some summers ago. He had been the one to break it off, much to everyone's surprise. His parents had been devastated, though the relationship – if you could call it that – had lasted little more than a month. Until recently he hadn't really understood why he'd felt the need to cut it short so quickly. It was by far his least tactical break-up. _So…we should break up_ , he'd said, and winced at the memory. To her great credit she'd been neither dramatic or numb about his announcement. Classy as ever, as he recalled.

Fresh off his break-up from Lauren though, which had been both dramatic in the moment and numbed him in the after math, the last thing he wanted to do was endure another scene with Stephanie Bellington that would include his parents – or at least his mother – lingering blatantly in the background, hoping they would decide to give it another go.

As luck would have it, and as he knew was inevitable, she was invited to the infamous Richards' Holiday Party.

"Miles—" His mother forced him away from where he stood stacking logs by the fireplace and to the door where the Bellingtons had just arrived in the front hall, despite his protestations. "You remember the Bellingtons, don't you? Mrs. Bellington, Mr. Bellington, Ni—" she frowned mid-sentence. "Where is—?" she addressed the lady of the family.

"Niles is away at boarding school, I'm afraid," Mrs. Bellington said. For some reason that got Miles' attention.

"For the holiday?" he asked.

She nodded somberly. "Yes. We begged him to come home, at least for Christmas, but he's loving it there in Ireland and he's on his final semester, so he said he'd just be staying with friends."

Miles nodded vaguely, wondering if he would be doing the same thing had his parents lived farther away and the outcome of the _incident_ with The Riot Club not been quite so friendly for him.

"And of course, there's Stephanie," his mother continued, urging the blonde out from beneath her parents' wings and relieving her of the caramel-colored fur coat she was wearing. "How are you doing, dear? You certainly _look_ lovely." She glanced over at her son pointedly. "Doesn't she, Miles?"

He nodded politely. "Stunning."

She blushed faintly. "Thank-you, Miles." She turned briefly to his mother. "I'm doing well, Mrs. Richards." Her eyes found Miles again. "Better now."

His mother was practically beaming with delight, no doubt designing the wedding invitations in her mind as she scurried off with the coat of only one of the Bellingtons in her hands. Freda, as well as their butler, Theodore, were both around to receive coats and dispose of them in some upstairs room, but Miles offered to take the other Bellington coats anyway to get away. Whether Stephanie had never gotten over him, despite appearances before now to the contrary, or she'd just sparked a sudden interest potentially after learning he attended Oxford, he was sufficiently over her and had been for years. The last thing he wanted to think about tonight was his love life, and certainly not anything Oxford-related.

Despite his best efforts, Miles found Stephanie joining his company sometime after dinner when a portion of the guests were sinking in the rest of the evening with champagne and the beauty of Mister and Misses Richards' duet.

"So, my father tells me you're attending Oxford now."

Miles closed his eyes, suppressing a groan.

"Your parents must be on cloud nine."

He forced a smile.

"They were, yes." He didn't look at her, but he could sense her frown and knew he had to erase it somehow, if only by lying to her. "When I got accepted, they were thrilled," he clarified to which she looked instantly relieved. "They're even more thrilled now that I haven't been kicked out."

She laughed coquettishly, and he knew he was in trouble, but made a valiant effort to ignore any flirtation on her part.

"They shouldn't have worried," she said, her eyes shining with admiration and boundless confidence. "There is nothing you do that you don't succeed at." She took a sip of her champagne and murmured, "I should know."

To his chagrin, he blushed a light pink and was grateful for the atmospheric lighting in the room. She was referring to their first time together – _his_ too, entirely.

"We're all human," he said, repeating his father's words. "Eventually we are bound to make mistakes." She was about to say something else and likely slip her manicured hand high up on his thigh discreetly when he excused himself to attend to some matter or other that he didn't actually need to be bothered with.

He didn't escape the party altogether, because surely his mother would have condemned him for that, but he did manage to avoid all the placements of mistletoe throughout the house that Stephanie might stand under.

"Where did you disappear to last night, Miles?" his mother asked him far too sweetly the next morning after she'd had her first full cup of coffee. "It looked like you and Stephanie were getting on so very well."

He forced a smile and set out to involve himself with his brother's morning activities.

"I was around," he said, and that was the end of the conversation.

…

Two days before holiday ended, Miles began to pack for his return to Oxford. He didn't know how it would play out, and frankly he was afraid of everything. He didn't think he could really trust anyone, and the ache he would feel whenever he was likely to spot Lauren in a courtyard or down a hall or in her own secluded library was inevitable. He felt it even now as he packed, and any time he saw a brunette on the street, any time his mother mentioned Stephanie too because Lauren had been so much better than a pretty blonde with a nice inheritance and the class of an heiress to the throne.

What weighed on him heavily was that he was starting to feel not at home in his own home, with his own family now too. The pressure about Stephanie had been only amusing before, but now it irritated. His father's flaunting of money and insistence on it, he'd brushed aside, but now he became angered by it. His brother's eagerness to attend Oxford had made him laugh before. Now he wanted to warn him on all the horrors of the world and try to persuade him to join any university but that one in the hope there would be no temptation like the riot club.

His experience at Oxford had started to change him immensely. He was not just the down-to-earth rich kid he'd been when he first arrived. Now he was angry, cautious, resentful, and if he was honest, a little bit hopeless.

All he could do was focus on his studies, and not cut any corners. While Hugo had once said in great amusement that some people attend Oxford to get a degree, Miles now planned to do only that. He would not make mistakes the way he had in his first semester. And he would go in with eyes wide open. That was the only way to avoid the kind of catastrophe he'd been sucked into before. If people wound up hurt this time, it would not be on account of him.

His guilty conscience already had enough to bear.


	2. Prologue - Part 2

***Disclaimer:** I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended. For entertainment purposes only. Because if I had rights to these characters, there would've been hope at the end of the movie for these two…

 ***** beta'd by **sendtherain** and reposted (on 7/1/18)

…

 **Prologue – Part 2**

The blur of honey blonde hair and fashionably clashing plaid enveloped her just as she was reaching for the suddenly buzzing cell phone in her pocket. She stumbled a step backward at the collision.

"You better be Allie Wenderlon, or this is about to get real awkward," she said, even as she hugged the blonde back, smiling into her wavy hair when she heard her trademark giggle.

"Why, look who it is," Allie said, stepping away from her friend and beaming. "Lauren Small, in the flesh and at Oxford, no less. Leaving her poor best friend behind at insufferable Bristol." She feigned a pitiful sigh.

Lauren laughed and let Allie loop an arm through hers, dragging her lazily towards where her dad's car was likely parked.

"You _love_ Bristol," she retorted, smiling. "You were on cloud nine when you got the acceptance letter."

"When I got _an_ acceptance letter," Allie corrected. "It was proof I was at least intelligent enough to make it on to higher education."

"But did that satisfy your parents?" Lauren prodded teasingly.

"Stepfather," Allie corrected. "Stepfather and his fifteen-year-old girlfriend." She sighed, the _tsk-tsk_ evident in her voice.

"I thought she was twenty-nine," Lauren said.

"Going on fifteen," Allie continued, undaunted by the correction. "Any woman that dates a man over forty and isn't herself at least thirty is still in her teens in my book." She stopped and sighed wistfully. "I just can't bring myself to call her twelve. That's a little too sick."

Lauren laughed and turned to see what her best friend was staring at. A man in his mid-thirties, tall, dark and handsome, sporting a worn cap and a faded gray sweater, stood leaning against a vehicle she could just barely recall, but the man was definitely familiar.

"Uncle Jerry?" she asked, barely a whisper. She could feel Allie smiling at her surprised reaction but she ignored it completely once the man's eyes found hers and she ran to him.

"My little Lorelei missed me that much, has she?" he teased when they finally pulled away from their embrace. Lauren looked up into his eyes, ecstatic at the surprise arrival.

"I didn't know you were coming." She glanced around him at the empty vehicle. "Where's Daddy?" she asked absently. When her uncle didn't answer and neither did her best friend who had walked over to join them, she felt a chill settle in her gut.

"He's at home, Lauren," Allie said gently, "getting ready for you."

Lauren spun around.

"Getting ready for me?" She frowned. "Why's he doing that? Why isn't he here? He said he'd be here." She was starting to sound panicky and she knew it, but her father had been so excited to the point of _tears_ when she'd gotten into Oxford. He had made a point of drilling into her that he would always be present at every pick-up and drop-off, and that he would never allow her to go alone.

Besides, after what had happened with her mother and the events in recent days, she felt she had a right to have a screw loose or two.

Allie hesitated, then shifted her gaze back to Jerry.

"She should know," she said firmly, telling Lauren loud and clear that this had been an argument brewing between her best friend and her uncle at least part of the drive there.

"Tell me what?" Lauren demanded, abandoning her resolve to remain calm. They were both acting so sullen and morbid it made her fear the worst. "Is…" she swallowed. "Is Dad sick?" She hated it, but her bottom lip trembled.

Her uncle's eyes widened, and he quickly came to her, grasping her arms and holding her gaze. He shook his head once.

"No. It's nothing like that. Your father's health is fine." He chuckled despite his niece tensing beneath his fingertips. "He couldn't do what he's doing now if it wasn't." Lauren waited with a barely restrained patience she was far from feeling. "He took another job," Jerry said finally.

Lauren blinked, then frowned, her eyebrows furrowing.

"Another job? Why? Is that where he is right now? Working?"

Jerry nodded. _It's weird to see him so solemn_ , Lauren thought. Her uncle had always been the cheerful, light, innocently explosive one.

"Oh, for goodness sake," Allie pulled Lauren away. "You're going to scare her right into depression the way you're looking. We both are." She shook her head, annoyed, then looped her arm back through Lauren's. She looked both ways for traffic, then dragged her best friend back across the street, presumably to start getting her things from her dorm room.

Jerry lagged slightly behind them.

"Basically, what happened is the bank called your house about a week after you left for Oxford," Allie began the explanation. Lauren listened warily. "They said they'd be sending a letter in the mail listing the details of your student loans arrangement. When the letter came, Daddy Dearest's eyes grew to the size of saucers. I don't think he realized how much you were going to have to pay when you finished school," she confided. Lauren suppressed a sigh. "So, as I'm sure you've already figured out, he was determined to assist you by getting himself a second job so he could offer something to get you started, and no one was going to stop him. That's all there is to it."

Lauren wanted to argue but abandoned the idea when she reminded herself the real person she wanted to argue with was not present and so the point was moot. Also, Allie continued talking without warning.

"But hey!" she said cheerfully. "Here we are at Oxford University, your stomping grounds now. We'll be seeing your room obviously, since we're carting most of your junk home for the holiday, but show us your hangouts too!" Lauren opened her mouth to interject but was interrupted before she could get started. "Where you study, where you relax, where you hit on boys…" Lauren tensed, and Allie caught it, but Jerry chuckled behind them and so the question in Allie's eyes was held at bay.

She knew her best friend would pry it out of her, but right now the last thing she wanted to think about was boys – or rather, Miles Richards, the only boy that had mattered to her for the past three months.

Every one of the places she would have shown her best friend and her uncle had some stamp of Miles on them; where they'd met, where they'd talked about life, about nothing; where they'd flirted and smiled, where they'd kissed and cuddled, where they'd just walked in content silence, where they'd studied. The first place they made love, the dark room on campus they had broken into one night to slow-dance with only the slight filtering of moonlight streaming through the angled glass window.

It had been difficult but not impossible to avoid all these places – apart from her dorm room, a place the two of them had also frequented – in the remaining few days of the semester, following the _incident_ that changed everything.

But now she was being forced to visit all those places, and the only way she could avoid it would be to say something was wrong. The complete and total truth was the very last thing she was willing to share.

…..

Later that night, when everyone had been thoroughly fed, hugged and talked to death, Lauren found herself in her old bedroom, which looked exactly as she had left it. She collapsed onto the bed and was just starting the final sink into peaceful oblivion when she heard a gentle knock on the door followed immediately after by silent entry of her BFF.

The blonde closed the door behind her, walked across the room and halted, hands on her hips, glaring down at her best friend. For a few lengthy seconds, Lauren pretended she wasn't there. As was often the case with Allie though, determination won out.

"I know you're not sleeping."

Lauren opened one eye. Allie crossed her arms across her chest.

"I know you're hiding something too," she said.

Lauren opened her other eye and blinked. She thought about denying it, but it had been obvious from that first mention of _boys_ earlier in the day that she was coveting a well-kept secret. Allie was not going to allow her to hide it any longer.

"You know I don't hide, Allie. I carefully conceal," she said proudly.

Allie raised an eyebrow and waited until finally her best friend sighed and sat up, making room for her on the bed.

"Fine, I'll tell you," she said. "But if I do, you have to promise not to tell anyone, especially not my dad. He's got enough on his plate already." She frowned. "Which I intend to discuss with him in detail at breakfast – you'll spend extra time in the shower and I'll send Uncle Jerry off on some errand involving Christmas shopping."

Allie waved off her tangents.

"You're going off topic. I swear I won't tell a soul and that I will spend more time under the glorious hot water in the morning. Now _tell me_."

Lauren smiled a little at her friend's urgency, but she quickly sobered as she proceeded to collect her thoughts. _How to begin…_ The semester had been everything she had ever hoped for at first – her dream school, a nice, hot guy she'd started to fall for ...until it wasn't. Until it became a nightmare she wished she could wake up from.

"Honey, what happened…"

She hadn't even realized it, but a tear had slipped down her cheek and now here Allie was, wiping it away. When she breathed in and out it was a little ragged and she hated that, because she had been so strong up until now.

She hadn't cried at the restaurant, on the way back to campus, or any time after. She hadn't really mourned Miles because she'd spent so much time in shock, angry at him, and distracting herself from those intense emotions that she hadn't had time. She only shed one tear, just like now, when Miles had confronted her for the first and last time about everything that had happened. Her moment of weakness was over before it had begun.

It was different now, though. Here in the presence of the one person who had never let her down, who was more like a sister than a friend, she was going to crumble. It was inevitable, and while she'd wanted to avoid that sort of succumbing, she knew it was the one place she was safe to do so and that it needed to be done for her to really heal.

"I met a boy," she finally said. Allie's eyes widened briefly, but she said nothing, so she must have guessed that was the source. "And he was everything, Al." She looked at her and smiled sadly, though she felt oddly detached. "He was nice and cute – _really_ cute. He said and did all the right things…made me so happy. I don't think I've ever been that happy before." She didn't feel that happiness now, couldn't even tap into what it had felt like, but memories passed by her eyes. She saw her smiling face and knew that she'd been happy. Once.

"What happened?" Allie asked again, a whisper.

Lauren closed her eyes tightly and two more tears squeezed out. This was the hard part. Allie made no move to hug her, hold her hand, or wipe away her tears. The moment was too fragile. If she didn't keep going she might not finish at all and she figured Allie knew that. She sighed on another ragged breath and forced herself to continue.

"Miles was the best boyfriend any girl could ask for…" she swallowed, "Until he joined _the riot club_." She cringed at the words. She was disgusted to give it the right to even exit her mouth. "After that, he showed his true colors. He put me through hell and then he asked my help to get out of trouble—"

"What kind of trouble?" Allie asked gently.

Lauren took another set of deep breaths and told her best friend the rest – _all_ of it. When she'd finished, she wanted to scream out all the unspoken thoughts she had since it first happened – _how could he do that? How could he say that? How could he ask that? Was it all a lie – everything?_ But, it got lost in the sobs that suddenly erupted out of her and wouldn't stop.

Allie held her fiercely then, until Lauren was so tired from crying that she just lay back with her on top of the covers and fell into a deep sleep. She had questions of her own, but she wasn't about to wake her best friend after that dreadful tale. She didn't know if there ever _would_ be a good time to ask, but one question kept creeping up on her still: If her best friend was so convinced everything Miles had been before that night was a lie, that he was just as bad as the other members of that club, why didn't she just report him – all of them—right away? Why was it only a threat?

…

The next morning, after Jerry had been sent into town on his mysterious Christmas shopping errand and while Allie dutifully spent extra time in the shower, Lauren and her father sat at the kitchen table eating breakfast.

"How did you sleep last night?" He asked.

"Fine," she said, forcing a smile she hoped portrayed cheerfulness. Her father's following sigh reaffirmed what a terrible actress she was.

"Honey." He laid his hand warmly over hers. "I know how hard it is not having your mother here." He squeezed her fingers gently and her heart squeezed with them. She did not need another reason to be sad this holiday. She did not need the reminder that two days before Christmas three years ago her mom had died of leukemia because they hadn't been able to afford the more expensive treatments.

It shamed her to think of how easily some problems could be put away if she had just been willing to completely disrespect and humiliate herself by giving in to the riot boys' demands some days earlier.

"Dad—"

"No, I need you to know that you can come to me. For anything. I want us to be a family with no secrets."

She could've taunted him with that new job that was supposed to be kept secret from her, but she couldn't make herself give in to the temptation – not yet.

"I'm taking a job at the university when I go back," she said, breaking away from the emotional pull caused by her father's words. "If this new job you've taken on is just to help with my tuition, I want you to quit it. I'm a big girl, Daddy. I can take care of myself."

He opened his mouth to argue but evidently changed his mind, because he chuckled instead.

"What you are is your mother's daughter, through and through." He smiled gently. "Nothing is sacred around here, is it?" he teased.

She gave a small smile. This time it was genuine.

"If it's any consolation," she said, "Uncle Jerry tried to keep his mouth shut, but you know Allie's first loyalty lies with me." Her smile widened.

He sighed testily, but she knew he wasn't really upset. Lauren had yet to see her father actually angry about anything. Even when her mother died, he'd been devastated but not angry. He was always strong for his daughter. Just like she had tried to be strong regarding the fallout with Miles. She'd relied on bitterness and distraction to stay strong. Not quite the same thing, though.

"It's not just for you," he said finally. "My first job has never held much appeal. I'm a loner there, robotic. And with the house so empty now…" He trailed off, his eyes lazily scanning the room they were in, vacant of anyone but the two of them. She felt guilt settle in her chest when he found her eyes again and squeezed her hands pleadingly. "Let me do this. For both of us."

She swallowed and nodded. Her dad was so hard to refuse when he was like this, warm brown eyes, soft touch, and all honesty, heart bleeding on his sleeve.

"Okay, Dad," she said. "Just…don't overwork yourself."

"Me?" he asked innocently and smiled.

She shook her head when he winked and got up to put the dishes in the sink.

"Promise?" she asked, a little forceful in her request. He turned around to look at her and bowed in her direction.

"I promise, m'lady," he vowed. "I shall do as you wish." He paused. "Or try to." He winked.

She got up and rolled her eyes.

"That's all I ask," she said quietly. Her father busy now at the sink, she took the moment to return to her bedroom where she hoped Allie would have settled on an outfit for the day, likely from her own closet.

…

The rest of holiday went by smoothly, without tense conversation, without tears or sadness. Even on the anniversary of the late Mrs. Small's death, there was no mourning, only shared memories and the knowledge that she was in a better place and they were all lucky to have known her.

In private, Lauren made it clear to her best friend that there would be no more talk of Miles and that horrible situation. It was a scar she would have to live with for a long time, but she wouldn't let it hold her back. She was still at her dream school and she was going to make the most of it.

Allie was clearly hesitant, even though as best friend to Lauren, she very much wanted her to heal from what these boys had done to her. It still pissed the hell out of her that they'd gotten away with as much as they had, the horror they had done to Lauren being the least of it.

"Are you sure you don't want to concoct some kind of insane revenge plot?" She asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

Lauren knew she was trying to lighten the mood, but she couldn't summon the energy to fake a laugh or even force a smile.

"No." She shook her head. "Those boys are despicable, but they're also untouchable. Just look at what they did…and only _one_ of them is getting any real punishment for it. His _posh_ status likely will knock down the severity of that even further." She scoffed in disgust. "And as for Miles…" She trailed off, remembering the look on his face when they'd last spoke. She shook her head to erase the remorse and guilt she'd seen there.

"He's made no move to contact me since the last time we…spoke." Allie quirked her head, no doubt curious about the delay in her sentence. Lauren refused to acknowledge it. There was no way she was telling her about seeing Miles one last time after their final talk. He'd been heading out of the Dean's office with his parents and who was probably his younger brother. One of the boys from the club had come up to greet them cheerfully and it disgusted her, so she turned away. Less than five minutes later Allie had come to surprise her.

"So," Lauren continued, "I think my threat hit home. He's just as scared as the others of getting caught."

A million things racing through her mind, Allie held her tongue and just hugged her.

"You know I'm here for you if you ever need me though, right?" she asked.

Lauren allowed herself to smile and snuggle into her best friend's warmth.

"Of course." She squeezed her tightly. "Thank-you."

Assured and confident she would move past all the drama of the past semester, Lauren went to sleep on the last night of holiday at peace and completely content.

...

 _The warm autumn breeze wrapped around her, playing with the edges of her sweater and ruffling the curls in her hair. She breathed in the air and took in the sight that she knew would never cease to take her breath away._

" _Thought I'd find you here."_

 _She gasped and jumped simultaneously, only to find Miles Richards standing on the other side of the roof smiling at her when she spun around. It took her a moment to remember what words were and how to use them, but luckily wit reignited at about the same time, so she didn't say anything dastardly._

" _Because you know me so well?" she asked, amused – and genuinely so._

 _He started walking towards her, briefly taking his gaze away from hers to take in all the buildings that could be seen around them._

" _It's got a good view," he said simply, slipping his hands in his pockets._

 _She crossed her arms across her chest._

" _Also the place you hit on me," she reminded him._

 _He came to a halt in front of her. "And got rejected."_

" _Which didn't stop you from seducing me later."_

 _He cracked a grin that made her heart speed up._

" _I don't recall you complaining."_

 _She was smiling like an idiot and she knew it, but she couldn't seem to stop._

" _I must have forgotten my good advice."_

 _His smile turned uncertain, the way it had right before he'd hit on her that first time._

" _I haven't," he said, then reached down and grabbed her hand. It sent chills racing through her, as all the memories from the night before and early this morning came back in an instant. She felt her cheeks grow hot and looked down._

" _So, you seek me out instead of avoiding me, is that it?" She looked up at him again, feeling braver. "Clever."_

" _I like you," he said simply. Her heart sped up again._

" _How much?" she challenged flirtatiously, leaning forward unintentionally. His hand inched up her arm till it cupped her elbow in response._

" _What are you doing tonight?"_

...

Lauren shot up in bed, breathing hard and sweating. It made no sense, since the dream had hardly been strenuous and was nowhere close to terrifying.

It had made her remember, though. She'd told Allie how happy Miles had made her before their fallout. She'd even cried for the loss of their happiness. But up until now, it had been a disconnected retelling because since everything had fallen apart she'd begun to convince herself Miles' initial treatment of her had been nothing more than a horrible façade.

Miles couldn't be nice and decent and sweet in reality. Maybe he had been trying to reinvent himself or was in denial, but he was not the "normal" he claimed to be. After all, he had only wanted to prove himself worthy of her forgiveness if she would help him out of the trouble she firmly believed he deserved to be in.

But this hadn't just been a dream. It had been a memory. Their first real interaction after the first hook up she'd told herself she wasn't fool enough to succumb to. This dream had reminded her how her breath caught in her throat every time she saw him, how an involuntary smile appeared on her face almost instantly when he talked to her or looked at her, and how her heart sped up when he touched her, how she nearly stopped breathing. Whether or not, this dream had reminded her what it felt like to be alive.

Lauren shook her head to rid herself of the fading images and emotions. Forcefully she replaced them with the horrible things Miles had done, the hurt and the anger he'd caused; the gall he'd had to suggest…

She swallowed hard and contained her tears. It was easy to hate him when she thought about _that_. Miles Richards: the charmer, the sweet talker. Miles Richards: the coward, whose loyalty lay with only himself, whose morale reached only to a certain price. Miles Richards: the _not_ normal, because no "normal" guy she knew could turn on a dime the way Miles had, becoming someone she didn't recognize and wanted nothing to do with.

Lauren had fury enough to support her as long as she needed it, but she had to remind herself to balance it with positive thoughts about her future. It was tempting to let the anger overwhelm her, but she wouldn't let it ruin her chances of being happy again someday with someone new – anyone but Miles Richards.

With those thoughts strengthening her spirit, Lauren contented herself to fall back asleep. She was glad her dream had not woken Allie up from her deep slumber. Miles was becoming harder and harder to talk about, and she might have caved by delving out the details of this precious dream she hated to admit was real. Closing her eyes, the one glum thought that remained was that even though her conscious thoughts and actions could be controlled, her dreams never would.

…

A/N: Every chapter will go back and forth between Miles & Lauren's POV. This may change to both POVs in the same chap when they're interacting more, but at least in the early chapters it will only be one or the other.


	3. Chapter 1

**A/N:** To the two of you (as far as I know) that are actually reading this story, so sorry it's taken me so long to update. I do so appreciate the reviews you've given me. I just got caught up in another fandom for the last month. I am back though! So as long as you shoot me a review, I will update with another chap. I've rewatched Miles  & Lauren's scenes and the sole vid I made for them and am ready to get back into this story. Hope you enjoy this next installment.

 ***** I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

 ***** beta'd by **sendtherain** and reposted (on 8/1/18)

…

 **Chapter 1 –**

He thought it would be easier than it was to see her again. As the years passed, he'd been able to dwell on Oxford without immediately associating it with the horrendous riot club. Becoming consumed by his studies and his future had turned out to be the right solution. This past holiday, unlike the one two years prior, he'd engaged in conversation with nearly everyone at the annual Richards Christmas party. He talked about Oxford, his studies, the career path he had all planned out. He'd gotten better too at maintaining neutral conversations with his parents' prized bride for him, Stephanie Bellington. He was so good at conducting them that, in so many words, he'd gotten the message across that he was never going to choose her himself.

As a whole, Miles Richards felt the past two years had done him good. He'd separated himself completely from those who had – intentionally or not – almost ruined him. He was making his family proud and behaving appropriately. He was putting that first semester behind him and never looking back.

Yet there she was, her snug fitting jeans, cute fuzzy boots and plaid jacket set to shades of toned down purple and gray. Her hair now cut into a little bob that a sliver of a headband fit neatly into. Her smile almost reached her eyes as one of the girls beside her made a joke in the conversation and it sent a stab of pain to his insides, making his stomach flip over. She was still as gorgeous as ever, still impossible to look away from, and still the reminder of everything awful he'd ever done.

Miles forced himself to look away and headed into the building for his first class in the last semester of his Oxford career.

But not seeing her right in front of him solved nothing. He heard her words in his head as if they had happened yesterday.

 _"You were there. You had a choice, Miles. You chose to do nothing."_

He tried to clear his head of those words, of that painful memory, but only worse, more painful memories came to take its place. That night at the restaurant. That poor, innocent man being beaten to almost the point of death. The fear and panic that had him shaking and unaware of what would happen first, throwing up or passing out. Fate wasn't merciful to him that night, because neither happened. The closest thing he'd done to something good was making the police suspect all of them because he hadn't told the lie that he'd been ordered to, that the restaurant manager had simply fallen.

Physically he didn't contribute to the man's wounds, and not verbally or emotionally either. Nothing in him had wanted that man to be tortured and mutilated the way he was. But restraining himself from even voicing that opinion hurt him. Who knew how much less that man might have endured if he'd spoken up? Maybe Lauren's declaration towards him wouldn't have been quite so severe, because then he would have been pleading only for _her_ , not for her assistance. A thousand things could have gone down differently if he had had enough courage to act on the horror he felt watching the boys he'd thought were his friends torturing an innocent man.

None of this had been easy to get past. It still haunted him to this day. But when he saw Lauren again, it hit him head on.

It wasn't as if he set out to see her – just the opposite. She'd more or less threatened to ruin him if he so much as stepped an inch in her direction. From day one he'd wanted nothing more than to win her back, to apologize and somehow make amends for the unspeakable trauma he'd put her through. It didn't matter that he never meant to. It didn't matter that he'd been a fool and an ass with every word that had come jumbled out of his mouth that night. It didn't matter that he was as scarred by his inability to save her from his so-called friends as she was by the attack she'd been under.

None of it mattered, because in the end his feelings were insignificant. They were driven by pure selfishness – the desire to be accepted, the expectation of a stainless reputation, the need to have _her_ in his life. The fact that, even though he'd known just how royally he screwed up, he still assumed she'd forgive him – that he had that _right_. He was entitled to her forgiveness.

He wasn't.

If he could do any of it over, he'd undo everything and do it this time the right way. He wouldn't assume he was the moral compass in a group of seemingly harmless pranksters. Because actions spoke louder than words, even the act of doing nothing.

Ripping himself from the past he knew he'd never fully escape from, he refocused on the large domed hallway he was walking down and started to scan the doorways for the appropriate classroom number. Having been there as long as he had, it was still easy to not know where you were going. Oxford was huge, bigger than any establishment he'd visited, surprisingly. Miles knew who was in what dorm and where events were held, or large public areas that were often frequented – the courtyards, library, cafeteria… He knew where those were. But individual classrooms were often just a little bit fuzzy.

A few more doors down though and he thought he was nearing the correct room. Until he heard a familiar sound, identical to the one he'd heard before he stepped into the building. He stopped, and hesitantly looked in the direction of the feminine accent. It had ceased. He didn't catch her eye, but he knew who it was. He quickly looked down at the sheet of paper in his hand that listed his class schedule for the final semester. Then he looked back up where the number was etched on top of the doorway. He looked back and forth between both paper and stone numbers but there was no denying it. Just as there was no denying the petite brunette figure that quickly stepped inside the room before he could think to move his feet in the same direction.

A chill raced down his spine and he felt unbelievably warm. Sweat formed in droplets on his forehead and the tie around his neck suddenly felt unbearably tight.

By some miracle, he snapped out of his heightened senses and forced himself to start walking, right into the room Lauren had just entered.

For the first time since their first semester at Oxford they would be sharing a class. They would be in closer proximity than they'd ever been since they'd gone their separate ways.

Miles didn't have the slightest idea of what to expect. He only knew he was doomed and he saw no way of undoing that curse.

…

"Miles Richards," the man, declaring himself Professor Irons, evenly called out. Another name down his roster of students.

Miles raised his hand, but it was futile. His new professor had his eyes glued to his list.

"Miles Richards," he called out again.

Miles restrained himself from a sigh or a groan or a grumble, or any form of complaint really.

"Here," he said.

Professor Irons made no vocal response. Just a swift check with his pen and he was on to the next student.

"Lauren Small," he continued, and Miles froze.

He'd known it would happen. They were in the same class and her last name directly followed his alphabetically. But he'd heard only muffled chatter from her at a distance with her friends. Nothing clear or concise, nothing close by.

Her "present," studious as ever, sent a jolt right through him. He felt light-headed, buzzed, and absolutely terrified.

Would she look back at him? Would she pretend he didn't exist? Would she drop out of the class? Would she expect _him_ to? Would he be able to pass this class at all with all of this weighing on him every moment it was in session?

"Good." Professor Irons looked up and smiled at her, which made Miles frown, since every student before he'd neglected to so much as respond to.

He assured himself that it might be just that Lauren's name was last on the list. Instead Professor Irons continued on till he'd reached a Charles Ziekler, ten names later.

There was no doubt in his mind that if it was between him and Lauren dropping out of class, it would be him.

"Well, students," the professor resumed. "Welcome to Psychology 406 – or otherwise known as the class you must pass in order to graduate. I am the only one who teaches it, and this is the only time slot it is available."

Miles felt his whole body overheat again as his heart plunged into his stomach and bile rose up his throat.

"You may be asking yourself," he began, slowly walking across the long expanse of the front of the classroom. "There are thousands of final year students here. All of them can't possibly fit in this one room." He stopped moving and talking, pausing reflectively before somehow making eye contact with everyone sitting before him.

"You would be correct in your assumptions. However…" He started to walk again, turning when he got to the window and going back the way he'd come. "This class is not only available in the finale semester. It is available any semester you choose to take it. No doubt you all saw it as a requirement and figured you'd leave it till the last possible moment, thinking it would not matter or amount to much."

He was almost to the wall by the door when he stopped again. This time he smiled almost maliciously when he addressed the crowd.

"In that, my fellow students, you would be wrong."

He returned to the podium and flipped through some books, both for reading and writing respectively. He sighed and smiled contentedly when he reached the page he was seeking, and when he looked up at them all with that bright smile accompanied by a cool exterior, Miles once again sensed the oncoming disaster.

"This class will test your knowledge," he began again. "But it will also test your skills, your ability to research and present. You've done those things in other classes, but in this one you will also have to prove your ability to work with others – even those with whom you don't associate well." Miles swallowed hard. "I will choose a partner for each of you that you cannot refuse. And by that I do not mean your heart will be overflowing for love for this person. I'm hoping it will be the contrary. No, your inability to refuse is based solely on the fact that my decision is final and your only way out of it is dropping the class and staying on an extra semester so you can take my class again, at least for you seniors." He looked down at his books on the podium again, flipping through pages, appearing almost bored. "I would not advise the latter, but it is of course up to you."

Miles sank farther into his seat. He glanced up to where Lauren sat three seats back and four rows over and told him he should feel comforted by the fact that she was fidgeting a little. But it didn't. It only made him more on edge, because who knew what she would decide to do now?

The professor's voice faded as if it were being spoken from a distance. In Miles head, every word was effectively blocked except for an occasional one or two that his subconscious must've somehow known would be important.

A full string of words stood out and made everything worse. Made both his and Lauren's hands clench around their desk. Miles thought his heart stopped beating for a moment. He wondered if she'd had the same sensation.

"Miles Richards and Lauren Small. You will be the first set of partners. For every project for the duration of the semester, you will be put together and expected to do extraordinarily well. I will be the judge of that, of course."

"Mister—Professor Irons, I really don't think—" Lauren tried to interject, but it was a lost cause and Miles guessed she probably knew it.

"Miss Small, I believe I made it clear before that I was choosing the partners and there would be no refusals, else you take my class in a future semester."

She slumped back into her chair, having been as straight and tall as her small frame could manage only a moment earlier.

"Yep, Professor," she murmured.

The kindly look Professor Irons had bestowed on her when she'd first responded during role call had turned into one of annoyance and disappointment. He continued on with his list though, and no more objections were made.

At the end of the class period, an excruciating hour and a half later, Miles wanted nothing more than to race out of that class and never see it again until it was absolutely necessary. But Lauren was before him before he could even get out of his desk.

"Miles," she said, addressing him in the most professional capacity he was sure she could muster.

He kept his mouth shut but focused entirely on her, reminding himself not to drown too much in her eyes or feel too much joy just from the sound of his name on her lips or tempt himself with the memory of what her hair felt like slipping through his fingers, soft as silk.

"I have not forgotten what I told you." She looked away and it tore at him, as if she was disgusted just to be near him. "And I…I appreciate that you have respected my wishes." She looked back at him, her eyes somewhat softened and yet still with shadows colder than ice. He wished he could tell what she was thinking.

"Even if it was done for completely selfish reasons."

She was holding back a scoff. That much he could tell. She was holding back a lecture and a slap too. He saw her jittery fingers form fists at her sides. He felt pang of guilt and also fear on many levels.

"That being said," she forged on. "It is obvious that neither of us can get out of the predicament we are now in. While I would very much like to force you to drop the class, regardless of what that would mean for your reputation or your family's opinion of you, since certainly you could afford the tuition…" She held back another scoff.

He deserved a scoff though. He wished he could tell her she could scoff at him without making her angrier than she clearly was.

"We are just going to have to put aside our differences for the sake of this one class. You cannot be mute in this situation because then I will carry the majority of the burden of every project I take on, and I certainly do not deserve that. I've worked hard to get where I'm at, and I refuse to let this be the reason my grade in what is obviously the most important class of my university experience might be lowered. You should speak," she insisted. "We will get through this in one piece if we follow the one guideline I know will ensure it."

He just stared at her waiting, still too unnerved to speak.

"When we speak, it will be only about whatever projects we must cover together in this class. If there need to be excessive conversations so that something is done well, fine, but any other topic that comes up from your doing will be the end of our little truce. It certainly will not affect me if your sins come to light."

His lips parted, but she had turned to leave before he could even straighten in his seat, not another word addressed in his direction. He watched her leave and was torn between aching need, fierce admiration and absolute terror.

"Mister Richards."

His head swerved quickly in the direction of his professor's voice.

"There's another class in here in five minutes."

He said no more but his stern gaze spoke volumes. Miles muttered something indistinct under his breath, gathered up his things and went out into the hall. He looked both ways, but Lauren was no longer there. She had to have disappeared into the masses of students now passing him in the halls.

He made no effort to find her, only followed the most open path until he reached the outdoors. Feeling on the brink of a panic attack, he walked quickly to the building across the courtyard and went inside. He found the stairs leading to the roof and went all the way.

His place of release, or relaxation, of clearing his head. The only place he could escape whatever worries plagued his mind or dragged down his soul.

The rooftop he'd shared with Lauren in the late afternoon of move-in day their first semester, swapping stories and backgrounds and barely stifling the obvious attraction between them – she more successful than he.

It should have been a haunted place for him, somewhere he never wanted to go again. Because they hadn't just spent that one afternoon there, but several. They'd had moments here that burned brighter every time he returned. He should've wanted to erase those memories, forget they ever existed.

But he couldn't. Those times were etched forever within him; the only warmth in the sea of bitter cold that infused the last three years of his life.

…

 **A/N:** Hope that's enough to intrigue you to keep reading. The plot has finally begun, and I'm just getting started. ;)

Happy reviews are love. They also often result in quicker updates.


	4. Chapter 2

**A/N:** To the reviewer asking if I'd do a side story/chap (or something along those lines) in regards to Doug's character – I can't promise that he'll make an appearance in this fic, since Miles  & Lauren really are the focal point and the only thing remaining from the drama of the movie is the painful memories, not further association. However, I do have a crossover idea of sorts in mind that does relate directly w/ Doug's character. When I get inspired for that one again, I'll be sure to start it up.

 ***** I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

 ***** beta'd by **sendtherain** and re-posted ( on 8/31/18)

* * *

 **Chapter 2 –**

Her resolve lasted until she got inside her room and shut the door. She locked it for good measure, even though the locks in this particular dorm were rarely reliable. She set her school books down after that, then she paced her small quarters. She tried standing still, but her hands shook and her legs moved restlessly. Her hair was suddenly too hot on her neck, even though and the short strands barely grazed it. She took her headband off, but instead of setting nicely on her dresser, she flung it across the room because she couldn't control her motions.

She tried to think of what to do – _anything_ that would help her get through this situation. Because there was nothing to do but _get through_ it.

Two and a half years later, everything that happened in that one semester still burned her. Hearing his voice today, seeing him look directly at her, actively conversing with him – something she'd sworn she'd never do again – being close enough to touch him…

It made her furious.

And it wasn't just because of how he'd hurt her, of how he'd taken advantage of her, of how he just didn't care enough to think about what his actions might do to her. It hadn't occurred to him that the riot club might be a bad idea, even though she'd told him over and over that it was. He'd brushed it off as her being a girl who couldn't handle what guys did for fun. But even though she was mad at how easily he dismissed her, she'd let it go, and she'd gone to him. And then…

She swallowed back the food she'd eaten earlier, which was threatening to rise in her throat. It burned and repulsed her, reminding her of how she'd felt for days, weeks, _months_ after he'd betrayed her. It didn't matter that he had tried to stop the abuse eventually. He'd waited until it was in motion. He'd made an effort too late. Why they hadn't just raped her right in front of him was a mystery she'd probably never know the answer to, but her best guess was they considered her too far beneath them in social standing. That made her feel even more sick to her stomach.

As unbelievable as it was though, the events that had ended their relationship weren't what put her in a rage right now. This rage wasn't just pure fury. This was anger, heartbreak and confusion all rolled into one. What pushed her to the boiling point after their first interaction in years was everything that came _before_.

Before the disregard, before the abuse at the hands of his "friends", before he didn't think enough to care, before he thought he was better than them just because he didn't act violently as they did.

" _I'm Lauren."_

" _Miles."_

She collapsed onto her bed and leaned back till her head hit the wall. She closed her eyes, but refused to let herself cry. She wouldn't let him have that power over her. He shouldn't still be such a source of raw emotion for her. Not after she'd forced him to keep his distance. Not after she'd spent the entire summer out in the country with Allie forgetting him. Not after she'd developed a real social life and still found time for studies. Not after she'd finally started to feel normal again, to feel like she did before she even met him – except now she was more cautious, and she was brave and strong.

There had been flirtations with other guys, but she never dated. A few drinks at the bar – no sex, no dates, just friends with all of them. Sometimes they disappeared entirely when they realized how she had no intention of lifting her foot off the brakes. That didn't bother her. After her encounter with all those raucous boys and the one that had her heart racing only to completely smash it into pieces, she was in no hurry to try it again. She hadn't seen his fatal flaw early on, so how was she supposed to detect it in others before it was too late?

Even at her most confident, she knew deep down he'd scarred her in ways she couldn't even begin to comprehend. She didn't try out for the plays, because she worried he might be in the audience. She didn't join the band or any sports team, because she worried that on some far-fetched turn of events, she might get awarded for something – the school might recognize her in a pamphlet of sorts – and he might see it. _Who knew if he would cross the line then to congratulate her?_

She'd let the fear of their next interaction, should it ever happen, consume her, even as she told herself she was getting better. She'd let it keep her from doing the things she loved.

This was _Oxford_. She should want to try out every new opportunity when it arose. _Who knew when such a vast array of things would be available to her again?_

The part she feared most wasn't any physical harm. As crazy as it was, she knew Miles would never hurt her. He was too much of a coward to try to stop violence happening right in front of him, but there was enough goodness in him to know what was right and what was wrong in its basest form. At least she wanted to believe that - that there was goodness in him, that he hadn't been playing her the whole time. It bothered her how desperately she wanted to believe he wasn't.

She had to take into consideration after all how there was so much at stake if she followed through with her threat. Not just for him, but for his family, for his reputation, for his family's reputation… In her weakest moments, she relapsed and hoped he followed through with her rules because he didn't want to hurt her further. Only then did she cave to dreaming about what their future could have been like if things had been different. It was foolishness to expect too much of the guy who talked a good game, but didn't follow through in the end and in fact failed so spectacularly that there was no chance for redemption. There never would be when it came to him in her opinion.

But he had a hold over her still.

If she'd had any doubt of that before now, it had become blatantly clear when the first thing she felt on seeing him in the hall was _butterflies_ , not seething rage.

She was in over her head, just as she had been from the very beginning.

…

Later that evening, after the supper she told herself she had no appetite for but knew she had to consume, Lauren went on her regular eight o'clock run around campus. She tried to keep her mind blank but it kept returning to the past hours she'd spent sulking and liable to throw things. The only thing she was grateful for that day was the absence of further classes. She didn't know if she could take Miles being in _another_ class with her that neither of them could get out of.

When her rage and her heartbreak cooled a little, she had managed to call her best friend and release some of her frustration to the only other person she knew she could trust with the information.

" _It happened,"_ she'd said.

" _He didn't,"_ Allie had responded, and Lauren was so, so grateful that she had a best friend who was so in sync with her.

" _He did."_ She'd paused. _"I mean, he didn't speak to me, but it's only a matter of time."_

" _Are you going to…?"_

And then Lauren had sighed _. "Can't. Literally neither of us can get out of it. It wouldn't be fair to him, since—"_

" _Now you care about being fair to him,"_ Allie had spat.

" _He's not doing it on purpose!"_ she'd defended and knew she was in trouble. _"Besides,"_ she'd continued. _"As I said, he_ _didn't say a single word when I informed him how things were going to work. Obviously that can't continue, since we're stuck as partners in that class for the rest of the semester."_

Allie had sighed and demanded all the details. When she got them she wasn't of much help aside from an offer to kick his ass and be a crying shoulder for her whenever she needed it.

Lauren didn't go to dinner with the other friends she'd made at Oxford. She went late and to a place that was rarely filled with people she knew – it was impossible to every know everybody at Oxford, the place was so huge. She ate and she came back to her room and she tried to put herself in a place where worries and frustrations and _Miles_ couldn't reach her.

Then she changed into a light t-shirt, gym shorts and running shoes, slipped on a stretchy neon headband and went on her run. She took special care to avoid places she and Miles had spent together the short time they'd been dating. But there was one place she'd nearly forgotten about, one that made her stop right in her tracks when she reached it, one that had meant so much to her that it was scary to think she'd forgotten it.

So endearingly romantic. So reckless. So _them_.

 _The clatter of shin against wooden table and stacks of chairs made Miles swear under his breath, causing her to collide into him from behind._

" _Oof." She braced herself with her hands on his back. "Are you alright?" she whispered when he didn't ask how she was doing._

" _Just fine," Miles ground out._

 _The moon streaming through the sole window on the far side of the room finally made out his form and she smiled._

" _We can leave if you broke a nail," she offered._

 _He looked back over his shoulder, shocked and then amused._

" _You would bail now. Already? Have you so little faith in me?"_

 _She only smiled wider. "I don't know. Is your poor leg alright, baby?" she teased._

 _He turned around and was caught completely off guard when stood up on her tip-toes and kissed him. She'd meant for it to be a quick peck, but he pulled her to him in that split-second and lingered on her lips._

 _When he set her down, her eyes were a little bit hazy, even in the dark. She could tell that by the smug look on his face._

" _Careful or I'll be tempted to ravage you right here, and all my romantic intentions will be for nothing."_

 _She raised an eyebrow. "Ravage me?" She laughed at the word choice, as she often did with him._

 _His eyes glinted with lust, but in the next moment he took her hand and pulled her through the room until they'd gone through three large cafeterias into one with windows lining every inch of square space on the walls. It was a wonder they were individual windows and not just one long panorama of glass._

" _Don't-" he said when she started to reach for a light switch._

" _I thought you said no one can see us from this side of the building. We're on the other side of campus already."_

 _He pulled her to him and she thought he might kiss her again, but his mouth only hovered above hers._

" _The fun is in almost getting caught, but we should still take precautions."_

 _She smiled then and relaxed._

" _Alright, Mister Richards, show me your romantic intentions."_

 _He grinned. Releasing her for what had to be at least a minute, he disappeared into the darkness of the other side of the room, miraculously not hitting a single table or chair and turned on some nearly silent music. A gorgeous piece from an artist she couldn't remember._

" _Music is less risky than lights?" she dared when he came back to her._

 _He grinned. "You'll have to take my word for it."_

" _Ah, but I don't have your word. All I have is cursing and shushing and disappearing into the dark – and no lights."_

 _He laughed but took her hand and brought her to the middle of the room. He soundlessly brought a couple chairs over to the sturdy tables they stood beside and made the trek till he was on the surface._

" _I'm not coming up there," she laughed. "No way it'll hold us."_

" _It holds me," he assured her._

" _Not for long…"_

" _I'm offended."_

" _I'm serious, Miles."_

" _You're also light as a feather, so no way your weight is going to crash this table to the ground."_

 _She sighed, deliberating, but his hand as still held out and his urging was relentless, so finally she took hold of him and carefully joined him on top of the table. Then he placed one of his hands in hers, the other on the small of her back and started to sway her to the music._

" _Is this table very big?" she murmured. "I can't tell."_

" _I'm not sure…"_

 _She jolted back. "Mi-"_

" _Big enough for us," he assured. "And also next to many other tables. If we trip over this one, we land on another."_

 _She laughed. "Well, that's very reassuring, Miles. Thank you."_

 _He chuckled, but held her closer, resting his cheek against the side of her face._

" _Just trust me, Lauren. I've got you."_

And she had.

For the next twenty minutes, she'd let loose, completely trusted him, and allowed herself to be swept away by the romance. They never fell, and when the moon shone through all the windows she could see how very right he had been. There had been no risk of falling at all.

" _See,"_ he'd teased, and she'd rolled her eyes. A beat later, he'd goaded her, _"It was a little thrilling though, right? Thinking you might fall at any moment?"_

She'd punched his shoulder, and he'd laughed. When the music ended, they'd snuck out undetected and ended up back in his room. Naturally after all that romance she'd succumbed to his seduction, though he hardly had to try. It was heaven being with him, no matter what they were doing. And when she woke up the next morning, wrapped up in his arms, she skipped her morning class to stay there and relish every moment.

She stood at that old building now, frozen in time as the memory washed over her. Her legs were numb, despite the warm breeze swirling around her. Eventually, she forced herself to move and ran straight back to her dorm. She took a quick shower and went to bed, forcing herself not to dwell on other memories and hoping her night would be restful and dreamless. To her great disappointment and very accurate predictability, neither were granted to her.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank-you for reading. Happy reviews are love.


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